Psychology of the “puente” in Spain

In North America, holidays are general shifted to the nearest Monday or Friday to ensure optimal long weekends for the public. In Spain, this is not the case, leading to cases of holiday Tuesdays, Wednesday or Thursdays. If the holiday falls on the weekend, tough luck, try again next year.

As we say at work, the Spanish have turned this bug into a feature. Especially for Tuesdays or Thursdays. These are called “puente” (bridge), and are designed for combining one vacation day in the middle with three holiday days on either side for a four day weekend. The observable output is traffic chaos as everyone tries to leave at the same time. These events are called “Operación salida” (there’s major one that happens at the beginning of August). The rather macabre and graphic traffic reports in the news usually feature a scorecard of how many people got killed or severely injured. Perhaps it is good training if Barcelona ever needs to be rapidly evacuated due to some disease outbreak or pending terrorist attack.

I did point out to a Spaniard that you could take a vacation day if there was a holiday Monday and also turn it into a four day weekend. She looked at me as if I was smoking crack.

This year, there’s a “mega-puente” coming up for December 6 (Constitution day) and December 8 (Immaculate Conception), so be prepared for traffic chaos.

Spain’s culture of comparison

Something that drives me nuts here is constant drive to compare everyone and everything to figure out who is smarter, richer, better looking, etc. It’s done in reverse though, so usually people talk about who is dumber, poorer or uglier.

Lately the pressure from the Spanish side of my family has gotten too much, especially around the kids. If our kids start piano lessons, the other grandchildren start getting pressure. Our kids speak English well? Time to send the cousins to English school. Then there’s the comparisons of where we went on vacation, what kind of clothes we wear (too shabby by Spanish standards apparently), whether our children are better looking than some other random kid they saw in the park, and on and on.

We haven’t had much luck promoting the idea that people can have different talents and be good at different things (and there’s nothing wrong with it!)

Child traumatization time again

Soon it will be time again to scare the bejeezus out of the 3+ year-old population via the collective Catalan insanity known as "colonias".

Near the end of the school year, the preschoolers get sent (without parents) for 3 nights to a farm somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, where they will supposedly become self-sufficient and self-confident.

At our school this is not optional, and you pay even if you don't want your kids to go. Luckily our friendly doctor at the CAP wrote us a note saying that our children would be traumatized if they went, so we got our money back.

The strange thing is that despite the efforts of Catalan parents to instill independence into their kids, most likely the kids will still be living at home by age 40.

Perhaps the kids of North America need to escape the claustrophobia of their overly safe and protected lives.

Unintentionally funny hat day

Last time I was in the US visiting HQ, I picked up a Pixar hat for my son, since he's such a huge fan of pretty much every movie they've ever made.

Yesterday was field trip day and he had to bring a hat, so of course he took his Pixar hat. The other kids absolutely loved it, not because they like the movies too, but because pixar in Catalan means to piss. At least they didn't laugh at him, they just thought it was really cool.

I imagine at the beginning of every Pixar movie the Catalan kids start giggling...

Back in business!

Lacking fresh milk in the fridge has meant cutting back on one of my favorite mantivities, ie drinking milk from the carton.

Not only are the UHT cartons pretty much impossible to drink from (if you don't believe me, at least poke a hole in the top before you try), but the UHT milk itself tastes kind of disgusting unless you mix it with coffee or some other strong flavor.

So I went to the local milk dispenser machine in Valldoreix yesterday. It's next to the bottled drink store on Rambla del Mossèn Jacint Verdaguer, with a big statue of a cow on top of it... you can't miss it. I opened the milk compartment, held my 1 litre container up to the dispenser and stuck in the matching 1 euro coin. 20 seconds later my container was full. I jumped back into my highly illegally parked car and zoomed home.

It's just too bad that my sister doesn't live here anymore, otherwise I could annoy her with a loud "ahhhhh" after chugging down a couple mouthfuls of cool fresh milk.

Changing your name in Spain

In most European countries, there are very few instances when you are allowed to legally change your name. In fact, since married couples in Spain usually keep their last name unchanged, it's even less common here than in other European countries.

This means that stories like this one, where a man legally named "Lord Jesus Christ" got hit by a car are somewhat confusing to Spaniards.

Not to mention the fact that if someone named Señor Jesús Cristo was hit by a car in Spain, it probably wouldn't make El Pais.

I've always wondered why Jesús is such a common first name in Spanish culture (and not so much in other parts of Europe). My pet theory is that it came from the tradition of calling your sons "Mohammed" back when Spain was Muslim. When the reconquista was happening, people realized which which way the wind was blowing and switched to Jesús instead.

Depressed about the garbage

We went for a nice hike yesterday... the only sad part was the amazing amount of garbage laying everywhere. Random household shit, even a broken street lamp post. Seeing garbage on the ground always reminds me of the how human carelessness is ruining the planet. Seeing garbage everywhere while trying to appreciate unspoiled nature, well, it kind of ruins it.

Perhaps my recent trip to Germany made me especially sensitive. When the person we were staying with explained that at their apartment, the neighbors take turns sweeping the sidewalk in front of their building, my jaw nearly hit the floor. If they don't, the building can get fined by the "Ordnungsamt" (the agency responsible for public order... seems almost redundant in Germany)We also went on hikes, and saw no garbage anywhere. In some places, they had even gone too far, and had started cleaning up the underbrush.

Given how cleanliness is so important inside the Spanish home, it amazes me how mentally, just tossing garbage outside your property line makes people feel ok. I remember when we went on a tour of the Benjamin Franklin School it struck me how, despite the inside of the school being somewhat messy and dirty by Spanish standards (I didn't even notice anything wrong, but my Spanish friend was complaining the whole way home), there was a definite lack of garbage build-up just outside the school fence.

How babies are born in Spain

From our research so far, this is what we are expecting:

PP's new strategy to win in Catalunya

Perhaps PP thinks it has finally hit on a good way to win more than 5 votes in Catalunya by appealing to the xenophobic segment of the population. Their recent banner in Badalona saying that they don't like Romanians (I guess they mean gypsies... realizing the fact that Romania isn't entirely populated by gypsies would probably overheat their brains).

The flaw in the strategy may be the fact that most of the "kick non-Catalans out of Catalunya" groups tend to also be pro-independence.

In a somewhat related story, I heard a radio interview today of some KKK members and/or militia members in the US, which made me think that if I ever decided to be a racist, I'd have to figure out some way to exclude those idiots. As a counterexample to the theory of white racial superiority, these morons would definitely be exhibit A.

The countryside of Catalunya Profunda

Fields of wheat, old castles, great food, long winding roads, confused GPS, wild pigs and the occasional prostitute sitting on a plastic chair next to the road in the middle of nowhere.

I thought about asking for directions but it felt kind of wrong. A foreign language is tricky when it comes to double meanings and I might have asked for the wrong thing.

Reminds me of the time that a guy kept asking me "Tu entiendes?" Unfortunately I was new in Spain and proud of the fact that I thought I knew what he was asking and kept saying "Si!". A Spanish speaking friend who was with me at the time was not being helpful at all due to the fact that she was suffering from convulsive laughing fits.

Uncolorful Catalunya

Something that has subconciously bothered me over the last couple years here over the last couple years has been the cultural aversion to color here in Catalunya.

Buildings are generally brick, stone or concrete colored. Cars are white, silver, grey, black, blue, or if people are feeling very adventurous, perhaps red. Clothing also tends to be neutral colors... earth tones, etc.

I've heard various theories:

• sun theory: that cold depressing countries liven up their colors to help people make it through winter, but there isn't a need for that here (although given this winter's weather, I'm not sure about that). Also, the south of Spain seems to have more color in clothing, etc.
  
• conformism theory: people don't want to stick out, and thus conform to safe low-risk colors.
  
• blame-it-on-the-church theory: the catholic church somehow supressed peoples' desire for color. Italy would seem like a good counter example... Ireland also tends to have much more colorful buildings.
  
• Catalans-are-boring theory: There are some counter-examples, like Custo, etc.
  
• Genetics: perhaps people from here are able to perceive subtle shades of gray and brown that make the scenery much more exciting.
  

Hyperbole of the day

The French magazine L'Équipe had this to say about the Barca game last night (the French to Spanish to English translation may be a bit off, but I couldn't find the original article):

The French newspaper L'Équipe had the headline "God lives in Catalunya" and described the victory as a feat that was "born of a foot of a genius who has changed the planet this season." "A man of boundless talent sprinkled last night" with unreal class continues the story of the game in which "a 22 year old extraterrestrial" was the protagonist.

A coworker thought that Arsenal's first mistake was wearing a white jersey.

Manners for bilingual kids

One of the challenges I've found in bringing up children speaking English in Spain is that they need to be more polite when in English-mode. Say "What!?" when you didn't understand something works fine in Spanish, but doesn't work so well in more up-tight cultures. Getting them to say "Please" and "Thank you" is practically impossible. It's still kind of cute when my 3 year old says "What? What?" and "Come on!", but I imagine it will become less cute as the years progress. My kids are also sounding a bit too Canadian, with the Catalan multipurpose "Eh" creeping into their speech patterns. ("Huh" is also becoming a favorite)

Luckily they are still young enough so that the "casual-use-of-swearwords-for-emphasis" isn't an issue yet, but probably will in the next couple years.

Catalunya, not just a good idea, it's the law

According to decree 78/1991, section 3.3, all place names in guides and descriptions of Catalunya for use in Catalunya must use the official Catalan spelling. No more Catalonia, Cataluña, or Catalogne. Katalonien is most definitely verboten. (and this guy is definitely going to jail)

There's an exception if you live in the Aran Valley, they are allowed to call it Catalonha.

Does a blog from Sant Cugat for Santcugatencs qualify? It's not clear (there is an exception for textbooks used in schools that are written in a foreign language), but to be on the safe side, I will try to use the official spelling.

So there, Tom. :)

Bob Esponja Pantalones Cuadrados

I've heard he's quite popular here. The name just cracks me up in Spanish... it doesn't exactly roll off the tongue.

Bidding war for John Cobra

TV3 and Telecinco are in a bidding war for around 30,000-40,000 euros for who gets the honor of hosting John Cobra.

Sometimes I get a guilty pleasure from seeing really stupid people with giant egos. Remember Mahir?

El hombre "perro"

Eurovision has just made my day. Count me as a new fan of John Cobra. Go Spain! This guy makes Chikilicuatre look like a fucking genius.

Lectures from abroad

From the kettle-pot-namecalling competition, we get rants from various Catalans living in foreign countries, complaining about the lack of adaptation by immigrants moving to Catalonia.

I suppose absence really does make the heart grow fondernationalist.

Some examples from the UK, Mexico, Holland or the USA. A Galician nationalist nutcase living in the UK even has an entire blog dedicated to bashing Colin Davies as not being Galician enough.

Du llu espic ingliss?

From an email someone forward to me. Good to know when I can be lazy and substitute an English word while sounding sophisticated at the same time. ("lifting" is cosmetic surgery, not lifting weights, right?)

Desde que las insignias se llaman pins, los maricones gays, las comidas frías lunchs, y los repartos de cine castings, este país no es el mismo: ahora es mucho, muchísimo más moderno.

Antaño los niños leían tebeos en vez de comics, los estudiantes pegaban posters creyendo que eran carteles, los empresarios hacían negocios en vez de business, y los obreros, tan ordinarios ellos, sacaban la fiambrera al mediodía en vez del tupper-ware.

Yo, en el colegio, hice aerobic muchas veces, pero, tonta de mi-, creía que hacía gimnasia. Nadie es realmente moderno si no dice cada día cien palabras en inglés. Las cosas, en otro idioma, nos suenan mucho mejor. Evidentemente, no es lo mismo decir bacon que panceta, aunque tengan la misma grasa, ni vestíbulo que hall, ni inconveniente que handicap…

Desde ese punto de vista, los españoles somos modernísimos. Ya no decimos bizcocho, sino plum-cake, ni tenemos sentimientos, sino fellings.

Sacamos tickets, compramos compacs, comemos sandwiches, vamos al pub, practicamos el rappel y el raffting , en lugar de acampar hacemos camping y, cuando vienen los fríos, nos limpiamos los mocos con kleenex.

Esos cambios de lenguaje han influido en nuestras costumbres y han mejorado mucho nuestro aspecto. Las mujeres no usan medias, sino panties y los hombres no utilizan calzoncillos, sino slips, y después de afeitarse se echan after shave, que deja la cara mucho más fresca que el tónico.

El español moderno ya no corre, porque correr es de cobardes, pero hace footing; no estudia, pero hace masters y nunca consigue aparcar pero siempre encuentra un parking.

El mercado ahora es el marketing; el autoservicio, el self-service; el escalafón, el ranking y el representante, el manager. Los importantes son vips, los auriculares walkman, los puestos de venta stands, los ejecutivos yuppies; las niñeras baby-sitters, y hasta nannies, cuando el hablante moderno es, además, un pijo irredento.

En la oficina, el jefe esta siempre en meetings o brain storms, casi siempre con la public-relations, mientras la assistant envía mailings y organiza trainings; luego se irá al gimnasio a hacer gim-jazz, y se encontrará con todas las de la jet, que vienen de hacerse liftings, y con alguna top-model amante del yoghurt light y el body-fitness.

El arcaico aperitivo ha dado paso a los cocktails, donde se jartan a bitter y a roast-beef que, aunque parezca lo mismo, engorda mucho menos que la carne.

Ustedes, sin ir más lejos trabajan en un magazine, no en un programa. En la tele, cuando el presentador dice varias veces la palabra O.K. y baila como un trompo por el escenario la cosa se llama show, bien distinto, como saben ustedes, del anticuado espectáculo; si el show es heavy es que contiene carnaza y si es reality parece el difunto diario El Caso, pero en moderno.

Entre medias, por supuesto, ya no ponen anuncios, sino spots que, aparte de ser mejores, te permiten hacer zapping.

Estas cosas enriquecen mucho. Para ser ricos del todo, y quitarnos el complejo tercermundista que tuvimos en otros tiempos, solo nos queda decir con acento americano la única palabra que el español ha exportado al mundo: la palabra “SIESTA.”

Diversity in action

The theme for the school carnival was diversity, so they had the kids dressed up as different cultures.

Eg, there was a bunch of kids dressed up as Chinese yelling:

Manifestación!
Chinitos en acción!

Okay. I suppose it's an improvement over Moros y cristianos.